


a thing with feathers

by goddcoward



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yokai, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Child Acquisition, Courtship, Falling In Love, Found Family, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Kitsune Senju, M/M, MadaTobi Gift Exchange 2020, Marriage of Convenience, OOP I FORGOT, Parenthood, Tengu Uchiha, not really accidental
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22516786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddcoward/pseuds/goddcoward
Summary: Tobirama and Madara get married for the sake of a recently orphaned Kagami, who needs familial stability to recover from the trauma of his parents’ death.You'll never believe what happens next.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Izuna/Uzumaki Mito, Senju Tobirama & Uchiha Kagami, Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara, Uchiha Kagami & Uchiha Madara
Comments: 51
Kudos: 540
Collections: MadaTobi Gift Exchange 2020, Naruto Fanfics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> jflkasjfsdlkjf so this isn't complete. i've talked with the mods about it and they understand. i've only got like 12k and that sounds Not Insignificant but it's a tiny wee bit of what the story actually is and it's not necessarily in order SO if i forget to check w/ the mods about posting beyond february/if i have 2 have it finished By February no exceptions than i will either finish it before the end of the month or write as much as i can and then fill out the blanks w my planning. not ideal but i was really excited for this and i wanted to post it so it's happening babes. anyway kalira this was inspired by yr incredible wingfic + madatobi w kagami fics so i really hope you enjoy!!!!
> 
> this first chap features tobi only in passing mention but i think it's good set-up for what happens next. HeHe.......mild angst incoming :-)

_Breathe deep, mine eyes, the frosty saga of eternal suns  
From unseen depths and dreams undreamt,  
I sing the gleaming cantos of unvanquished space  
By thought I embrace the universal  
With wings of mind I sail the infinitude  
Glory! ’tis the stars which beckon man’s spirit and set our souls adrift!_

Yui and Kaoru, Madara knows, had always wanted a large family. They’d insisted on building their home by themselves, and had ended up with a beautiful nest that could have easily supported four or five chicks, the envy of the entire flock due to its sturdy construction and inviting interior. He remembers their marriage ceremony, remembers having paid an exorbitant amount of money to a rabbit yōkai from Kawa no Kuni so that she would officiate the wedding and bless them with fertility.

And in a way, it worked – they had six eggs together.

Five of them never hatched. Two dissolved while still in the womb, emerging from Yui’s loins as a foul hemorrhage of blood and yolk and slimy shards of shell. Three others died during the incubation process, developing depressions in the eggshells and growing soft, the chicks inside having become so grossly deformed that they never would have stood a chance of survival.

The last hatched too early, too small, beneath the light of a blood moon, just before the most disastrous loss of life the Uchiha had ever had to weather in living memory.

There have been whispers of curses since well before the birth of their only issue, a boy called Kagami, and it occurs to Madara for the first time that they may very well be true. He lived, but was very weak and sickly as a hatchling. Yui made the most controversial decision of the decade and abandoned active duty so that she could scour the Elemental Countries for a healer capable of saving her only chick. She found one, a _human,_ an onmyōji specializing in blood magic, but she never told a soul what price she paid for Kagami’s continued survival.

No soul, that is, besides Madara.

_“Madara-sama,” Yui murmurs, dark eyes shadowed. “Madara-sama, may we speak?”_

_He raises his eyebrows, turning around and snapping his wings out to gesture at their surroundings. Rows and rows of elaborately decorated urns gleam in the golden-blue torchlight of the shrine, and the death-masks on the walls glare down at them with unseeing chakric eyes that make Madara shiver despite his unyielding strength of character. “Here?”_

_The woman tightens her grip on the precious little bundle in her arms, wrapping her bicolored magpie wings around her body as if to protect herself from some intangible evil. “Yes. It must be here.”_

_He frowns, but it’s clear to him that Yui is determined in a way she has never been determined before, and it’s obvious that she’s come to him to discuss a matter of some gravity, an issue she can share only with her Clan Head. She didn’t even tell Kaoru – if she had, her mate-spouse would be with her, and he is conspicuously absent._

_His eyes drop to the squirming mass of down and chakra pressed into Yui’s chest. “This is about Kagami.”_

_It’s not a question._

_“I found him a healer,” she says softly, dematerializing her claws so that she can run blunt-nailed fingers over her son’s fragile head._

_Madara’s lips twist into a bemused frown. That’s good – that’s **very** good, nigh on miraculous, he hadn’t thought that there was a single being on the face of the planet capable of keeping that chick safe from the talons of death, but – she’s not smiling. There is no minute vestige of joy in her expression or her posture or her chakra._

_She speaks like a woman condemned, and distantly he registers the sensation of a winter wind biting at him through his clothes, even though they’re indoors._

_“…A nogitsune?” he asks, because that’s the only thing he can think of that would drive Yui to be so secretive and solemn about what should be a celebratory affair. The only kitsune Clans within a thousand leagues are the Uzumaki and the Senju, and if she’d been forced to turn to their ancestral enemies for help…_

_He feels the rage building, leashed beneath his skin and blazing like a wildfire. What did she sacrifice for her chick? There is little doubt in him that she cares more for young Kagami than she cares for anything else, even her family, even their flock. If she sold out the Uchiha in exchange for her son’s life, Madara will be forced to execute her. That’s treason, the caliber of treason that could very well end the war in the Senju’s favor, and no matter how kind and caring Hashirama is, he’s still a seven-tails, still a warlord, still a Senju._

_Yui shakes her head, and the tempestuous emotions locked within Madara’s chest do not abate when she opens her mouth next._

_“A human.”_

_His blood turns to ice._

_Every yōkai with sense knows that the humans are more monstrous than any oni. They fear what they do not understand, and they do not make any effort to understand what does not come to them immediately. They’re known for hunting down lesser yōkai and slaughtering them in cold blood, for ripping the wings off of fledgling tengu who can’t fight back, for kidnapping young kitsune of all genders and forcing them into the role of bride and mother. Their dogs are vicious with noses like vultures, trained to attack the supernatural on sight. Everyone knows that humans are abominations of consciousness, the kami’s biggest mistake, a barbaric people to be avoided at all costs._

_Madara knows of the strength of the love of a mother for her child, but to consort with **humans?** Has Yui lost her goddamn **mind?**_

_It occurs to him then that’s there’s every possibility that she has. Five eggs gone bad, with the sole surviving chick weak, sickly, all but certainly cursed? He knows she’s never been the same since she lost her first clutch, knows that the loss of the children she’s always wanted and her failure at this most feminine of endeavors has weighed on her shoulders like lead._

_“An onmyōji,” Yui continues, blind to his horror. “A witch specializing in blood magic.”_

_Madara tilts his wings up and out in a show of dominance, discouraged when she is not cowed by the threat of violence. His heart is heavy in his chest. He loves every single member of his flock, and to know that Yui has cast aside all sense, even for the sake of her son?_

_“I am forced to call together a council,” he rumbles, the grief thick in the back of his throat. “You cannot – you **can’t** —”_

_Yui steps forward, deactivated Sharingan glittering with some inscrutable sorrow that he couldn’t begin to dream of comprehending. “There is no need, Madara-sama. I have already paid in full. I am only telling you because I owe it to you to explain what will happen, and you deserve to be prepared.”_

_The words are dusty on his tongue. “What has Kagami cost us?”_

_The other tengu meets his glare, and he sees a steel in her eyes that he hasn’t ever known from her before. Whatever she’s done, she believes in her heart of hearts that it was the right thing to do, and he clings to that knowledge, praying that it means she hasn’t sacrificed the wellbeing of their flock for the wellbeing of her chick. She’s always been a loyal kunoichi, a warrior ferocious in her defense of her precious people; perhaps there is some way this can be salvaged._

_Perhaps._

_“My life,” she says, and her voice rings proud and strong and clarion-clear in the suffocating silence of the shrine. “My life, my husband’s life, and our home. Kagami will be five years old when he undergoes the fledging of the phoenix, and we will not survive the fires. I have come here with you to ask that you take him in after our deaths, and that you care for him as if he were your own son.”_

_Madara stares. “That’s it?”_

_Yui nods. “That’s it.”_

_“You traded this onmyōji your future to secure **power** for your child?”_

_Her mouth thins into a hostile line, and he knows he’s misspoken. “Of course not. It was always going to happen. The witch can see the future, and she has assured me of that much. If I hadn’t given Kaoru and I up for Kagami’s sake, he would have died instead. I will not cremate another chick. I wouldn’t survive doing so.”_

_Madara knows enough about her to realize that she’s right, and all of the anger and the tension and the breath leaves him in a massive sigh that causes him to deflate somewhat. He tugs his wings back in. No paltry intimidation attempt will change Yui’s mind now, and—_

_“That was a good deal,” he whispers, not meeting her eyes. “Why would a **human** be kind enough to spare Kagami’s life in exchange for your own?”_

_Yui approaches him, and he’s lax and unresisting as she tucks wee Kagami into his hold. He’s a beautiful chick, if a little small, with velvety freckled skin and curly dark hair and gleaming black eyes that speak of a fierce wit and intelligence to come in the future. His wings are still tiny, the limbs folded flat against his back and fluffy with ebony-ivory down. The boy looks up at him and gurgles, tiny, gummy mouth creasing in a heart-melting smile as he reaches out with a single chubby fist, and oh, no, Madara is so **fucked.**_

_He’s already in love. Yui knew the moment she made her proposal that he’d accept as long as she familiarized him with Kagami’s irresistible charm._

_“Bitch,” Madara grumbles, allowing his sharp eagle talons to fade into nothingness so that he can stroke at the babe’s soft, pudgy cheek with blunt-tipped fingers. “Manipulative bitch, that’s what you are.”_

_The sound of Yui’s laughter will haunt him for decades to come. “Of course I am, Madara-sama. Have you ever met a half-decent kunoichi who wasn’t?”_

_Well. She’s not **wrong.**_

_“I only have one other thing to ask of you.”_

_“What, you want me to end the wars for him?”_

_She tips her head to the side, eyes glittering with repressed amusement. “Ah, no. It would be nice if you could, but I have a feeling that will happen regardless of whether or not Kagami has undergone his phoenix fledging at that point. I simply request that you put in effort to create for him a welcoming home life. He will grieve when he comes to you, and it is imperative to his healthy development that he is surrounded by love and affection and care. Perhaps find yourself a nice mate-spouse, one who likes his company.”_

_“Right. You’re only demanding that I get married and give him siblings?”_

_“So grouchy, Madara-sama! Not quite. Please, just – treat him as you would a chick of your body. Don’t bother to court anyone who happens not to like him.”_

_That’s simple enough, Madara supposes, and it’s not like he hasn’t been looking for a partner anyway._

_Years will pass before he realizes that her seemingly innocent request will come back to bite him in the ass._

The fledging of the phoenix is an occurrence so vanishingly rare that there is only one recorded instance of it happening in the millennia-long history of the Uchiha Clan. Madara has to spend weeks in the archives digging through dusty scrolls to find it confirmed in print, and when he does it’s so old that it’s nearly indecipherable.

The man’s name was Indra, Ōtsutsuki Indra. If Madara is interpreting the kanji correctly, he was the first daitengu of the main bloodline, the first tengu to ever manifest the Sharingan, the founder of the entire Clan. He was also apparently the genesis of the ancient blood feud between Uchiha tengu and Senju kitsune, and he takes a moment to curse his ancestor for being petty and short-sighted.

There is little actual information concerning the phoenix fledging itself, but Indra was apparently fortunate enough to undergo the process while outside, a safe distance away from any bystanders.

There were no casualties.

Kagami is not so lucky.

_“Fire! Fire!”_

He’s ripped from his dreams by the sound of an explosion and a bursting pulse of chakra so extraordinarily powerful that he can feel it rattle his bones down to the marrow. Jolting upright in his nest, immediately awake, wings flaring, he catches the thick ashy scent of smoke, the papery smell of burning wood, and for a moment there is relief, because it seems as though no one’s been hurt—

—but beneath the ashes and the woodsmoke, he notes a familiar, blood-curdling scent. Through the haze of shouting his sharp ears detect screaming, high-pitched, desperate, born of agonizing pain.

Madara is a daitengu, and in his flock there is no one with better mastery over Katon jutsus and the firebending arts their people have practiced since time out of mind. He’s perfectly familiar with the sensations produced by a person being burned alive. The screeching, the flickering pulsing of chakra signatures helpless to regulate body temperature and protect against the searing touch of open flame, the revolting metallic scent of carbonized flesh and boiling blood.

He scrambles out of his window in a mad dash, hurling himself into the sky and snapping his wings against the smoky air in a thunder of panicked noise. Four blocks down and two to the right – there it is, there’s the fire.

Everything falls into place when he recognizes Yui and Kaoru’s house. In the five years that have passed since that tense conversation in the shrine, much has happened – the last battle between Uchiha and Senju occurred not even two months later, and the village is nearing its fourth birthday – but he’s never managed to forget the promise he made, never managed to put Yui’s desperation out of mind.

He hasn’t actually spent much time with Kagami, being so busy with running a Clan at war and then the peace negotiations, trying to trap the kitsune into promises of pacifism that he _knows_ the nature of their magic will not allow them to break, and then administering a rapidly growing Konohagakure. It’s been a hectic mess, and ever since Izuna moved in with Mito and Hashirama – who the fuck saw _that_ coming? – he’s barely had time to prepare his own home to receive a chick.

He alights on the street a safe ten meters from the flames, and although the blaze is extinguished in minutes, it’s already too late.

Madara picks his way through the ashes and rubble of what was once a lovely, welcoming nest. He can sense Kagami in what must be his bedroom, unconscious and probably still on fire but otherwise unharmed.

He doesn’t waste time searching for corpses in the rubble of her home, instead heading straight for Kagami’s nest. He passes Kaoru in the living room, the charred remnants of his bones crushed beneath the oppressive weight of a fallen beam. Ashy imprints of his covert feathers are scorched into the wood, spine and wings all but obliterated, blackened carpals reaching desperately out at Madara’s sandals.

“Your wife’s fault,” he reminds the corpse as he forces himself past the body of a Clanmate he remembers drinking and laughing and sparring with, remembers celebrating Kagami’s hatching with, remembers a lifetime of companionship with. “Her fault entirely.” It’s extraordinarily difficult to cling to his performative callousness in the wake of a deadly disaster, even one he knew was going to happen, and the words come out wavering and watery.

More important, though, is the son Yui sacrificed their lives for.

Kagami is collapsed in the sooty remains of his nesting room, and Madara’s blood turns to ice when he sees the grotesque, charbroiled cradle his small form is wrapped in.

Yui died clutching her only chick as close to her as she physically could, to the point where the boy’s limbs are entangled in the brittle delicate cage of her bones. She would have been closest to the most intense flames, had wrapped herself around her child to the best of her ability, and all that remains of her is a roasted black skeleton, so close to dissolving into dust that Madara doesn’t dare to touch her for fear of causing her to disintegrate.

Of course, he has to anyway, for Kagami’s sake. Hauling him out of his deceased mother’s hold will be difficult, but forcing him to wake while still cocooned in her dead embrace would be more than traumatic.

Gods. He’s _five._

His forehead is blisteringly hot when Madara pries him from Yui’s arms, soot-coated wings glowing golden red with fresh embers. His curly head lolls into the dip between his neck and shoulder as he removes him from the corpse, shifting him around until he’s secure in his grip. Unconsciously, small arms tighten around his torso, and Madara thought the whole experience couldn’t get any more tragic, but apparently, he was _wrong._

As Kagami is ripped from his mother’s hold, he whimpers, body temperature spiking until Madara’s mantle begins to sizzle in protest. It’s more than uncomfortable, but he’s a daitengu, the strongest of his flock, and he hatched with the ability to withstand the searing temperatures of all but the hottest of flames.

He’s long since been designated as the individual who will be Kagami’s legal guardian in the instance that his parents ever find themselves incapable of caring for him, and few are surprised when he emerges from the remains of the nest with the chick in his arms.

Uchiha Hikari, one of Kagami’s neighbors, greets him on the street, heron wings fluttering. She’d often offered to watch the boy while his parents went out on dates and missions and the like, and Madara knows she’s close to him.

She approaches him without fear, chakra roiling, and he’s reminded of the iron soul that had drawn his eye to her as a potential mate-spouse. She’s beautiful, certainly, but he’s attracted more to her strength of conviction and her talent in combat than her face. “Madara-sama. The fire has been contained.”

He dips his head in acknowledgement, hoisting Kagami up so that he doesn’t drop him, settling one of his hands just beneath the boy’s short, feathered tail. “The authorities have been notified?”

“Hokage-sama is on his way along with the White Demon, but it’s not like there’s anything they can do now. The damage has been done.”

Sure enough, Madara can sense Hashirama and his brother flickering towards the compound at reckless speeds, and silently he curses them. He knows their presence is required, as Suiton experts and top village administrators both, but the last thing he wants to deal with at the moment is _politics._

“Thank you, Hikari-san,” he says, his voice coming out thin and sorrowful.

Her eyes drop to the chick asleep in his arms, and she purses her lips in thought. “Don’t thank me yet, Madara-sama. Your work has only just begun.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy bday 2 my mother. you go queen
> 
> i'm glad you all seem to like this so here's some more! hehe......Ka Ga Mi

Madara-sama keeps trying to preen him.

Kagami knows that being chosen by a yōkai as powerful and as busy as the Clan Head himself for an activity as intimate as flight hygiene is a tremendous honor. He knows that lesser tengu such as himself are rarely permitted the luxury of affectionate interaction with the daitengu of the main bloodline. He knows that Madara-sama took a big risk by adopting him after his parents’ tragic death. He knows that his new status as the only chick of the Clan Head will not only put him next in line to rule the Uchiha once he’s grown, but will give him countless opportunities to rise higher in a world where weak yōkai are ruled by the strong, a world where he was hatched at the bottom of the hierarchy. He knows that he ought to be nothing but grateful for Madara-sama’s kindness and generosity, and that there is no place in this new life for his anger and his grief.

Kagami can’t find it in him to be anything _but_ angry and grief-stricken.

Madara-sama obviously hasn’t had to groom the wings of a chick since before Izuna-sama fledged, and he’s _terrible_ at it. Perhaps he’s used to caring for his own hair and wings, thick and robust and all but unmanageable, and hasn’t yet realized that Kagami’s ebony down requires a gentler touch to be properly preened. Perhaps he thinks that shredding and yanking out all of the feathers that have grown in so far will hasten the development of his primaries. Perhaps he’s just impatient, unpracticed with tending to the needs of children and frustrated with the difficulty of his new morning routine, which is now much heavier than it used to be thanks to his need to care for Kagami as well as Izuna-sama and himself.

The talons running over his fluffy wings are wickedly sharp, and although the layers of feather and down are thick enough to keep Madara-sama from accidentally scratching the limbs themselves, Kagami knows that there will be furrows in his plumage from the harsh rake of claws more accustomed to combat than to cleaning.

He should probably speak up and tell him that he’s doing it wrong, but from the muffled cursing and aura of confusion coming from behind him, he already knows, and it’s not like Madara-sama’s preening skills could ever hope to compare to those of Kagami’s parents. They were much better at it. They know all the spots to scratch at gently and all the spots to avoid because they’re too sensitive, all the places where fledgling feathers need to be plucked out so that mature adult feathers can replace them, know the soothing melodies that send Kagami into something like a trance so that he’s focused on his breathing and his chakra instead of the arduous task of grooming growing wings.

 _Knew,_ rather.

They’re dead.

It’s hard to keep his mind off the knowledge that it’s _his fault._

No one blames him, but he knows it’s true.

The phenomenon is called the fledging of the phoenix, said to be a blessing, the will of Amaterasu made manifest. A supernatural event so extraordinarily rare that its last occurrence happened millennia ago, it has since faded to nothing but dusty old mythos preserved in the spiderwebbed scrolls of the most ancient sections of the Uchiha archives.

Until now.

Kagami’s magpie feathers are still soft and downy, not yet fledged despite the deceiving name of the phenomenon that so recently ruined his life, but in the right light, they’ve developed a fiery sheen, the golden-red shimmer of molten metal.

Unlike him, Madara-sama was blessed with the beautiful brown-banded wings of a golden eagle, broad and powerful with long primaries and contour feathers and the thick, strong back muscles that allow for fast powered flight in larger birds. Kagami is no daitengu, though, and he was hatched with magpie wings like his parents and their parents and their parents before them. Pretty in their own way, and he’s never had a problem with them before – he has yet to grow into the iridescent blues and greens of a fledged chick, and now he might not ever, but even the plain black and white is a lovely contrast that garners many compliments – but they’re structured very differently, meant to support the lifestyle of a passerine rather than an active bird of prey. The differences are obvious in the breadth of their chests, too. Even though Kagami isn’t fully grown and hasn’t yet developed the large pectorals all mature tengu have in order to facilitate flight, his breastbone is much narrower and shallower than Madara-sama’s, who needs big lungs and bigger muscles to get him into the air and keep him there. Even for a tengu, he’s broad and muscular, and he has to get all his shirts tailor-made so that they’ll fit him properly. Kagami knows this – he’d heard Izuna-sama making fun of him for it.

They’re really not so different. It’s not as though the structure of the feathers is as drastically changed as it would be if one of them were an owl yōkai. It’s not as though they’re unfortunate enough to have been hatched with wings that are altogether flightless, like old man Eiji had been. It’s possible that Kagami is just looking for excuses to prove that Madara-sama is an inept caretaker, even though he’s really trying his absolute best.

It’s not that Kagami doesn’t _like_ his Clan Head. Quite the opposite, actually. Madara-sama is grumpy and tempestuous but kind and passionate and frequently prone to fits of idiocy that make him easy to laugh with.

He’s just not Kagami’s parent. His _real_ parents are gone. His real parents are sitting in large, elaborate urns in the shrine where the Uchiha honor their deceased. His real parents were wounded so terribly by the house fire that there was no chance of recovery, and since their wings were damaged irreparably by the flames, he has no primaries or covert feathers to remember them by.

The sound of Madara-sama’s voice comes rumbling over his small shoulders, and he comes back to himself to the relief of his Clan Head pulling those awful talons out of his downy feathers. Fingers smooth over the surfaces of his wings as he speaks, probably trying to even out the gouging.

“Okay,” Madara-sama says, sounding almost as weary as Kagami feels. “You should be done. It doesn’t look good, but it’s _done._ You can go to bed now, chick. I know you must be tired.”

He forgot to do the ventral side entirely, but Kagami doesn’t want every inch of his wings ripped up, and it’s not as though he can’t reach those parts himself.

He’s climbing to his feet when the next words come, solemn and rough and entirely unwelcome.

“I’m sorry, Kagami. For everything.”

He sucks in a breath, saltwater stinging at his eyes. It’s an unwanted reminder of the circumstances that brought them together; he wouldn’t be here having to endure Madara-sama’s idea of preening if it weren’t for the fire, weren’t for the deaths of his parents.

“Why are you apologizing, Madara-sama? It wasn’t _your_ fault.”

The clawed hands come to rest on his shoulders with a strength he can’t shrug off, and before he can protest, he’s being spun around, around, around to face his Clan Head.

Madara-sama frowns, dark bristly eyebrows drawing together in bemusement. “What do you mean?”

Kagami swallows, heart caught in his throat. He doesn’t want to say it out loud, but if he can make Madara-sama understand that he’s a bad chick, a _dangerous_ chick, maybe he won’t bother him anymore. “You know…”

The daitengu glares, irises flickering wine-red and eyes creasing at the corners in a tell that indicates that he wants to activate his Sharingan. “I _don’t_ know, actually. What were you going to say?”

Clearly, he doesn’t know the right answer to that question. “…”

“Ka _ga_ mi,” Madara-sama snaps, his tone severe, “you don’t blame yourself for what happened, do you?”

He doesn’t say anything, but apparently his silence is more than loud enough to confirm his guardian’s suspicions, because suddenly he’s lunging forward to wrap him in a backbreaking hug, thick arms pressing him into a broad chest with such force that it’s difficult to breathe. For a moment he remembers, and for a moment his heart seizes to a stop within his ribcage.

He'd thought it had all been a nightmare.

_“Kagami, Kagami,” Kaa-chan screeches, throwing open the door of his bedroom and hurling herself at him, completely disregarding the flames wreathing his body. “Oh, my chick, my baby—”_

_His tears evaporate the moment they spill out of his eyes, but still he sobs, trying to back away from her so that he doesn’t burn her, but she is insistent in her goal to reach him, and she wraps herself around him, black-and-white wings shutting the rest of the world away until he can pretend that it’s only the two of them together._

_“Kaa-chan, Kaa-chan,” Kagami wails, burying his face in her breast but jerking back when he feels blisters boil up and burst beneath his cheek. “Kaa-chan, what’s happening, I’m scared!”_

_“Amaterasu,” Kaa-chan breathes, voice tight with agony, and the last thing Kagami notices before he falls into the darkness is the reflection of firelight against the burns on her throat, the way her feathers disintegrate beneath his touch, the way her tears are painted red-gold with embers._

Madara-sama is talking, but whatever comforting words he has to share don’t register beneath the sound of Kagami’s crying. Everything is blurry, he’s getting tears and snot all over his Clan Head’s shirt, and Madara-sama is _still holding him,_ tight and close and achingly familiar, the embrace of a parent attempting to calm a hysterical chick, and that’s when the dam breaks, the emotions trapped inside him swelling up with such intensity that he can’t keep them contained within him anymore.

“—you want something? Maybe some tea—”

 _“Get off of me!”_ Kagami shouts, shoving at Madara-sama’s solid chest with all of his strength. “Stop _touching_ me! Go away!”

He rips himself out of his guardian’s grip, snapping his wings out and almost stumbling as he races down the hallway. He passes Izuna-sama in his frantic flight, but he ignores the daitengu’s confused squawking, socked feet slipping on the shiny wooden floors until he finally makes it into the office.

Kagami calls it _the office,_ since that’s what it was before he came to live here, but in reality, it’s his new bedroom. All of the furniture has been moved out and replaced with bookshelves and tatami mats and a dresser and the brand-new futon that’s meant to be the base of his nest.

Madara-sama was kind enough to provide him with a generous excess of blankets and pillows and other soft miscellany that he could conceivably use to build up a new nest, since his old one was reduced to ashes in the accident, but Kagami has left everything lying around on the floor.

He can’t create a nest here in the office, because doing so would mean that he’s accepted that this is now his bedroom. He can’t allow himself to use casual – gods forbid, _familial_ – language in reference to Madara-sama and Izuna-sama, because doing so would mean that they’re his family now. He can’t permit himself to adapt to this new lifestyle, because doing so would mean that he acknowledges that his old one is gone.

Madara-sama’s voice echoes down the hallway, wet with worry, and Kagami can hear him talking lowly with Izuna-sama. It’s not at all long before his silhouette appears in the office, shadow blocking the light shining through the paper walls and doors.

“Kagami? Kagami, you’re in there, I know you are. Please come out.”

He curls up in the futon, hiccupping as he sobs. Words are beyond him right now, but Madara-sama is a sensor, and he flares his patchwork, developing chakra in a clear indication for his guardian to _fuck off._

He’s not supposed to know that word, but he learned it from Madara-sama himself, having overheard it during one of his conversations with Shodai-sama.

There’s a heavy sigh from beyond the shoji. “Kagami—”

He doesn’t manage to get much further than that, because Izuna-sama slips up from behind him. They exchange a few words, soft and solemn, and with a growl of resignation Madara-sama snaps his wings and stomps off to his bedroom.

It’s only once Izuna-sama leaves too that Kagami is safe to collapse into his futon, pressing his legs against his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs and then his wings around his body, doing his best to stay quiet.

_Kaa-chan’s warm, bright smile. The taste of Tou-chan’s salmon onigiri, ones he’d shaped into tiny, sticky cat faces just to entertain Kagami. The scent of his old nest, familiar and calming, the soft embrace of blankets and cushions and nesting-cloth he’d had since he hatched a soothing sensation._

_The feeling of fire blistering uncontrollably beneath his skin. The sound of his screaming as he wrenches himself out of his nest, alarmed to discover that his wings have been set alight. The panic filling his mind with static as he stumbles about his room, flapping his wings in an effort to extinguish the flames and only spreading them further._

Kagami cries until his eyes hurt, and it’s only once Madara-sama’s snores echo throughout the house that he realizes what he needs to do.

Madara-sama just doesn’t seem to realize that Kagami is a bad chick, a _dangerous_ chick, a cursed fledgling who will tarnish his sterling reputation no matter how hard he tries to distance himself.

He only waits long enough to ensure that his guardian is well and truly asleep, and then he’s ready, ready as he’ll ever be.

Kagami makes sure he’s wearing socks before he leaves the office, to better muffle the soft noise of his footsteps, and he creeps through the hallways in near-perfect silence, heart thundering in his chest. There are two scary moments where he thinks he’s going to be caught – once when he steps on a squeaky floorboard, and then again when he nearly walks right through a papered wall – but tonight is a lucky one. Izuna-sama had visited for dinner, but is spending the evening with his mate-spouses, Shodai-sama and Mito-hime. The strongest sensor in the entirety of the Uchiha Clan is dead asleep in his nest.

After nearly two weeks of sharing a house with him, Kagami is well-aware of Madara-sama’s tendency towards night terrors, and he knows that he only has about a few hours or so before the daitengu will wake and discover that he’s left. By then he needs to be out of his range or hidden well enough that sensor’s sight won’t find him.

Kagami tips his head up to stare at the waxing moon, hanging low in the nighttime sky. The countdown has already begun. He has to get moving before he’s missed.


	3. Chapter 3

Tobirama slips out of his cotton yukata in a single smooth movement, shedding his clothing and baring his body beneath the silver spill of pale spring moonlight. Kitsune like himself have little concern with modesty; clothes are prohibitive in the change between one physical form and another, and nakedness is nothing he’s unfamiliar with. He knows the Uchiha tengu find their customs barbaric and uncouth, but nudity is simply the most efficient way to live when one can transform between fox and humanoid and has reason to do so several times a day. For conveniences’ sake, he and the other Senju almost always carry wardrobe scrolls with them, but tonight Tobirama has forgone such an accessory. He’s the only conscious being around for leagues in every direction, and the carp won’t blush and flounder when they see his ass.

The shift is easier than breathing. Tobirama simply allows the fox-form slumbering beneath his skin to rise to the surface, watching as silver-white fur sprouts to coat his skin in silken softness, crouching down so that the transition from bipedal to quadrupedal doesn’t knock him off his feet. In half a moment his hands and feet have become paws, his face become a snout, his muscled limbs become leaner and more vulpine than they already are.

As usual, his ears and tails undergo no transformation, staying the same and just shifting around to align with his changed anatomy. It would be an insult to the kami to hide the blessing that makes kitsune so much more powerful than regular beasts of the field, and even when in humanoid form, aspects of the fox-form remain, principally the claws, the paw-pads, the tall vulpine ears, and, of course, his five luxurious tails.

Tobirama twists around to look at them, spine bending more easily in this body. He fans his tails out, admiring the way they gleam beneath the starlight. Nighttime has always brought out his beauty, so often asleep during the day; there is no sun to burn his sensitive skin, no blinding brightness to hurt his eyes, nothing but a wash of silver light that makes his thick fur shimmer as he moves.

Hashirama’s taken to having him shift in the evenings so that they can lounge in the garden as a two-man skulk, his brother brushing and combing the filth out of his glorious platinum pelt and Tobirama in turn helping him further train his Mokuton.

He shakes himself back to the moment, reveling in the sensation of wind carding invisible fingers through his voluminous pelt. He’s come to the Nakano for a reason – the most lucrative prey is often also the most elusive, and there are several species of prized sport fish that only emerge at night – and he only has so much time before sunrise.

Tobirama pads along the shoreline, lowering his sharp nose to the ground and allowing his sense of smell to guide him along the bank to a stretch of land where there are no stale, old scents. Since the establishment of Konohagakure, he’s not the only active-duty ninja who has magically found the time for sustenance fishing of rarer species, and he will tolerate no competition.

He _is_ the only active-duty ninja with the finesse and control to Suiton the fish right out of the river without breaking a sweat, but that’s _easy,_ and Tobirama likes a challenge. Tonight he’ll subdue his quarry with his own skill as a hunter, with his own claws and teeth and waterproof coat.

No chakra required whatsoever.

With two steps backwards and then a graceful leap forwards, he dives into the Nakano with hardly a splash, body undulating as he swims through the explosion of bubbles that his grand entrance causes. With his chakra-sense, it’s almost painfully easy to detect the locations of the fish, but that’s where the fun begins.

Knowing where they are is one thing. _Catching_ them and bringing them to shore without getting himself drowned is entirely another.

Three meters below him and to the left there lurks a giant catfish, whiskers twitching as it crawls along the riverbed. It’s longer than Tobirama is tall in his humanoid form, most definitely bigger than he is as a fox, but for all that it’s far too large to eat before the meat will spoil, he’s recently mastered the art of stasis seals, and the carcass will keep if he’s deliberate about storing it.

Tobirama kicks. The water is the fish’s domain, and if he doesn’t want to drown, he’ll have to lure it to shore somehow. Ordinarily it would be quite difficult, since this particular species is both meek in nature and vegetarian in diet, but luckily for him, it’s spawning season.

All Tobirama has to do is plunge at the nest. There’s only that one large female around, but he knows she will defend her eggs beyond all reason, and that’s how he’ll get her. In a flurry of snapping jaws and air bubbles, he begins to rip into a stash of well-protected roe.

He’s halfway through a light snack of catfish caviar by the time the fish bestirs herself. She didn’t live to become as big as she is by mere chance, and her chakra reserves are dense and powerful. The currents around him begin to swirl violently, tearing Tobirama off of the riverbed, but he didn’t live to have as many tails as he does by mere chance, and he throws himself once more to the bottom of the Nakano, forcing himself past the mother catfish and closing his toothy maw around the algae her eggs are adhered to.

Her jaws are lined with a multitude of teeth so small that her bite feels like sandpaper rasping against his hind leg, but the muscle behind it exerts a sheer strength greater than anything he could hope to match, and he’s running out of breath. He’s gotten her attention now; if he doesn’t get her onto land soon, Anija will find his scavenged-clean skeleton in her nest.

Tobirama can’t form hand seals without hands and battering his tails against the fish’s back is more than useless in trying to shake her off, but channeling his chakra is easier than thinking in his fox-form, and with a violent discharge of electric energy he has her dazed and shocked.

It gives him the time to paddle desperately to the surface and inhale a lungful of air before that massive mouth is returning, clamping shut around two of his tails. The catfish pulls with such power that he fears for a moment that she’ll rip those tails right off, but they’re connected to his spine, and there’s no way he can produce enough of a counterbalance to put up any kind of fight against the strength of her grip. She’d have to debone him for that to happen, and he’d drown before she’d manage that.

He’s closer to the surface than he was before, but she’s one tenacious, piscine motherfucker, and with every inch he gains she drags him down four more.

Tobirama couldn’t dream of winning in a battle of muscle. If he wants to survive this, let alone come away with the fish as his trophy, he needs to use her power against her.

It’s then that he spots the pale gleam of more roe, adhered to the stony slope of the shallows. He knew that catfish produced a staggering amount of eggs, what with the fact that barely a fraction survive to become hatchlings, let alone mature adults, and given how his nemesis must weigh near half a ton, she could easily lay more than two million at a time.

An unrefined surge of Suiton energy loosens the hold the fish has on his leg, and he’s able to bob up to the surface and snag another breath before she’s biting down again and dragging him towards the depths.

There’s no way Tobirama could reach the rest of her eggs as he is now, but at this point his goal is not to secure victory over the mother catfish but to ensure his continued survival.

They tug each other back and forth through the water for another ten minutes before he’s able to daze her with a burst of Lightning chakra that nearly electrocutes him too and make his great escape.

As Tobirama hauls himself up onto shore, the catfish trawling the waters behind him with a vengeance, it occurs to him that he just lost a fight with a _fish._

As he shifts, he resolves to not tell Izuna. His rival might not be able to overcome the insult inherent in being weaker than a _catfish,_ even a big one.

With a few hand signs and a weak pulse of chakra, he draws the water molecules off of his body, watching as they coalesce into a shimmering crystalline orb above the surface of the Nakano, taking a half-step back so that the splash of impact doesn’t make him wet again.

Tobirama manages to get himself dressed before there’s an extraordinarily powerful spike of chakra drawing his attention towards the forest beyond the northern bank. With a crackle and a sonic boom so immensely loud that he stumbles backwards in its wake, part of the canopy suddenly erupts into white-hot flame, tongues of fire igniting the sky and licking up at the constellations.

He’s just about to turn tails and alert Anija that there’s a forest fire when he hears the screaming. Thin, high-pitched, the shriek of a youngling in terror and in pain, a noise he’s intimately familiar with.

(Just because Hashirama has banned child soldiers in Hi no Kuni doesn’t mean that the other hidden villages and Elemental Countries were compelled to do the same.)

This can’t be any ordinary blaze. Even putting aside that explosion of chakra, these flames bear little resemblance to Fire Country’s seasonal conflagrations, too hot, too focused, too quick to grow. Perhaps one in a thousand wildfires reaches this level of intensity, and the last one of a similar strength would have burnt itself out long before Tobirama was conceived.

There’s no time to waste with informing Hashirama. He’s a grown kitsune, a Suiton master, and there’s a kit in danger; although the haze of chakra radiating from the source of the fire makes it difficult to discern individual signatures, he’s all but certain that there’s only the one child, alone and in peril.

(Perhaps Itama and Kawarama would have lived if there were some charitable shinobi passing by the places where they’d died. Perhaps this kit has a family who would miss them, siblings who would weep for their loss, parents who would never again know a life devoid of the heavy shadow of grief. Perhaps, if Tobirama is quick enough, he can prevent that from happening. The gods know he’d sworn to never stand by and let children die if he had any means at all with which to protect them from harm.)

Before he’s thinking, he’s moving, darting across the surface of the river, his fingers flickering through a long string of signs. With a blaze this powerful, what little water he could summon out of the vapor in the air will not be sufficient to extinguish it.

How lucky that he has the Nakano at his heels and the fine control with which to manipulate it into doing his bidding.

The river rises like a freshwater tsunami, an enormous wall of water pulled right from the banks. Tobirama can’t let it loose in the forest, not until he’s found and secured the kit, but it’s easier than breathing to force the waves forward through the night air.

With a surge of chakra and a tug in the pit of his stomach, the water advances, relentless. The sound of the kit’s screaming is becoming sharper, closer, and through the thick fog of natural chakra Tobirama notices the bright patchwork flicker of developing coils.

He darts into the underbrush, following the vague scent of terror souring the smoky air, and mere moments pass before he sees the kit – the _chick,_ with those wings and dark eyes the child must be a fledgling Uchiha – cowering against the charred remains of an oak tree, wreathed in flame and shouting as loud as his small lungs will let him.

_“Help, help, Madara-sama, help—”_

Tobirama hurls himself through the blaze, wrapping his body and tails around the chick and then bringing down the entirety of the Nakano River on the surrounding forest with a mighty crash-smash-splash and a protective rage that he hasn’t felt since Itama’s death burning beneath his breastbone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY KING you are so sexy. tobirama stan hours are 24/7 in This house
> 
> also for anyone who's following serendipity i promise i am working my ass off on the next chapter BUT it's a real pain to write. i have this conflict that i need to resolve before we can move on and i don't want it to be shitty and rushed so we are taking our time on this. thank u for your patience

Kagami wakes to the sonorous sound of an ambiguously masculine voice, a soft rumble of noise that falls through his head in a clutter of sensation that his mind can’t process. His fingers twitch, carding through a thick, voluminous softness more comfortable than anything he’s known before, even the embrace of Kaa-chan’s wings, and without thinking he’s wriggling deeper into it, clutching at the silken texture even as it flows like water between his stubby talons.

It does not occur to him that the feeling of what can only be sinfully luxurious fur against his skin is connected to the voice until his softness _moves,_ separating into several different somethings, still caressing his small body but decidedly more alive than they had been just a second ago.

Kagami is slightly ashamed to admit that he shrieks in his surprise, fighting his way out of the fur and scrambling backwards, rubbing at his eyes until it all comes together.

The sound of someone’s voice, speaking to him lowly. The fur brushing against his form. The sight before him, a tall shinobi, whipcord-thin with large triangular ears on the top of his head and five fluffy tails.

A kitsune, and judging by the red markings on his face, not just _any_ kitsune.

The White Demon of the Senju.

His blood runs cold. Tobirama-sama has been muzzled by the peace, but before that, it’s rumored that he hunted down injured Uchiha and ate them alive, leaving behind only their wings as gory trophies for him to display back at home. It’s rumored that he’s still waiting for the chance to kill Izuna-sama, grown soft and complacent in peacetime, tentatively reaching out to trust his malicious brother-in-law. It’s rumored that he grew to the height he is today because he was fed as a kit by the flesh of tengu chicks captured and slaughtered by the child-hunting patrols.

Kagami can still feel the phoenix fires blazing through his veins, blood boiling beneath his skin, but Senju Tobirama is a Suiton _master._ He doesn’t stand a shadow of a chance against a foe like that, not even with the holy power of Amaterasu blistering throughout his being.

…But the kitsune isn’t attacking him, isn’t armed but for his teeth and claws, isn’t summoning water dragons out of thin air to swallow him whole, just tipping his head to the side, ears twitching in bemusement. The look in his eyes is soft and sad and heartbreakingly familiar, a weight that Kagami sees trapped behind his own expression when he catches glimpses of himself in a mirror.

Grief.

And then suddenly he understands, eyes locking with the fox’s, their chakra humming with a deep, nameless pain borne of devastating loss. He ignores the quiet tug in the back of his head urging him to exercise caution around his Clan’s most ancient enemy. He creeps forward, maintaining eye contact, onyx against ruby.

“You saved me.” _Why?_

Tobirama-sama’s brow creases in confusion, and his bloody gaze increases in intensity. “You were in danger.” _Why?_

Distantly Kagami recalls trauma-pale memories of his nest burning, his mother screaming, the walls of his house crumbling to ash around him. Madara-sama attempting to soothe him in his hysteria. Heat flooding through his veins and bursting up beneath his skin, fire licking up at the spaces between his fingers, an unbearable swell of chakra cresting within him with such strength that he can’t even begin to attempt to contain it.

The soft tenderness of fur against his cheek, the warmth of an affection he’d thought had died with his parents, the whispers of curses that fill the Uchiha compound when people think he’s not listening.

Tobirama-sama has no business knowing of Kagami’s condition, and Kagami has no business telling him, but if he continues pretending that it doesn’t exist, he’ll never find a way to cure himself, and isn’t the Senju a notorious genius?

In a soft voice, Kagami shares his story.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short as in less than 1k but i wanted izuhashimito fuzzy-warmth and madara losing his goddamn mind and i'm making lots of other words for other things......two serendipity updates at once......new blood // water chapter in the works......soft sickfic kiss meme update for this era of coronavirus ft. overprotective himbo madara and izuna who is one of those whiny sick people when he gets man-flu.....tobi has pneumonia which is the main issue but Kiss Meme and Communicable Disease do not pair well...............also a hanahaki/hidden injury wip for madatobi week that will have y'all brandishing torches and pitchforks and baying for my blood so that should be fun :-)

“Go _bed,_ teddy,” Izuna murmurs, lips twitching against Hashirama’s throat, face nuzzled into his neck. “S’late. Tired.”

He fits so perfectly in Hashirama’s arms, long slender legs folded around his waist, arms slung over his shoulders, silken head tucked beneath his chin. His wings are splayed to the sides, flawlessly preened, every feather in its place.

Hashirama hums, letting the sound rumble in his chest, something blistering and bright and overwhelmingly powerful blooming to life beneath his sternum as their lovely songbird trills and snuggles into the vibrations.

He knows Izuna is right – if they don’t move now they might never make it back to the futon, and experience has proved that attempting to fit three grown yōkai onto one piece of furniture is both futile and painful – but he’s warm and comfortable and that soft, fine inkspill of hair is so pleasant to the touch.

They aren’t sensors like their brothers, but Mito’s chakra is powerful enough to draw their attention towards the bedroom when the seals she’d been altering are activated, a dense web of energy humming to life.

“Thas’sa cue, teddy. Sleep time.”

Hashirama makes a noise of acknowledgement, but Izuna’s torpor proves contagious, and the most he can bring himself to do is haul their daitengu properly into his lap. Hypothetically he’ll be easier to carry like this, but he’s also closer than he had been, making the cuddles more effective.

They’re a lost cause. His eyelids are drooping and he can hear Izuna produce that snuffling chirp that means he’s barely able to force himself into consciousness. The rich, nutty scent of preen oil melts into the citrus-coconut of their hair conditioner, and if Mito doesn’t come and get them _right now,_ they’ll fall asleep as they are and wake up with cricks and soreness in all the wrong places.

His ears twitch at the muted shuffle of slippers on the hardwood of the hallway, and Hashirama can’t suppress his groan of relief. Tobirama will frequently spend the night in the guest room that he’s infected with his science and laboratory equipment, and because he’s a sweet, filial little brother who is almost certainly a closet sadist, he always waits to haul them back to bed until _after_ they’ve just entered REM sleep.

“Boys,” Mito barks, firm but not unkind. She’s retained a reasonable amount of cognitive function, having banished them to the front room so that she could recalibrate the fūinjutsu set into the walls of their bedroom without the risk of stray flares of chakra ruining her work.

Hashirama’s face is still buried in the top of Izuna’s head, but he can still picture the way her face gentles when they respond in chorus with nearly identical whines. A sharp exhale, fond rather than exasperated, and then the plush tickle of her tail against his neck.

“Alright, my silly boys. You can get up now and retain the privilege of being able to retreat to our nest like dignified yōkai, or you can cry at me because you lack the capacity to stop me from dragging you back by your ears. I know which one I would prefer, but since I am a gracious, giving wife, I will now allow you a moment to choose between those options.”

She reaches down and strokes at Hashirama’s jaw, and the momentary brush of her claws against his left ear has his body moving without permission, Izuna thrown over one shoulder like a sack of noisy, contrary rice. He’s not sure his poor ears have recovered from last time, and isn’t convinced that they ever will.

The journey from the main room to the futon is a century-long blur, and Hashirama finally collapses into his side of the nest with a sound of muted ecstasy.

He’s mashing his cheek into the pillows and almost instantly out, letting lead-heavy exhaustion settle into his marrow, limbs and tails sprawling across the sheets and tangling with those of his mate-spouses, sinking into the darkness—

There is no warning, no tell, no small sign of a coming disturbance, but it’s possible Hashirama’s observational skills have deteriorated beyond all hope due to the frighteningly potent narcotic quality of therapeutic Izuna-snuggles made all the more compelling by the long hours of village-induced stress that had preceded them.

Whatever the case, Hashirama has just succumbed to deep sleep when Madara, terrible, horrible, no good, very bad platonic soulmate that he is, explodes through the bedroom window with enough frenzied hysteria to level Konoha if he’s not cautious.

His piercing shrieks are almost totally incomprehensible, but Izuna is shaking him by the shoulders and Mito’s eyes are sharpening and somewhere beneath the ruinous din of Madara’s deafening panic Hashirama thinks he hears the word _Kagami._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updating this now might be illegal but quarantine means the mods can't find me so fuck it we're posting.

**Author's Note:**

> fjkasdfadlj uhh
> 
> [bleats utter nonsense about comments and kudos, which are for authors what iv drips are to individuals in the icu]
> 
> thamk you for reading please validate me and have a good night :-)


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